We live a small life on this lake. We don’t go abroad much anymore. I didn’t even get a vacation this year, as you know from past posts. We rarely even go into town–where we lived happily in the midst of nonstop action for the last 12 years. I find myself quite content to shuttle between the library, the gym, thrift and craft stores, and meetings with friends. I cook. I make. I listen to great music. I watch. I learn.
Our windows offer the best programming yet–there’s always drama or comedy out there. The sky and lake have a million different personalities–light transforms the whole landscape every hour. The garden blooms and fades and blooms again. The animals that share this land with us are a source of endless interest. Wood ducks have just come back to start gobbling the acorns. They scoot around with a funny Chaplinesque gait and sometimes…no sense of direction.
We walk around the lake nearly every day, and have been enjoying eating outdoors or on rainy days, in the sunroom. When I’m out weeding, the only sound is the wind through the leaves and the chittering of birds and squirrels. At night we hear a great horned owl in one of our tall pines. This is how happiness arrives–in very small measures.
Today was a good example. I harvested basil this morning and my husband made his legendary pesto–maybe the best batch ever! It will be gone before long because we use it in so many recipes. But I’ll get some more basil at the farmer’s market this weekend to keep him going.
Lunch consisted of my favorite Mediterrean flavors–kalamata olives, pepperoncini, feta, artichokes, and tomatoes. Delicious, simple, and very satisfying.
Later, as I was deadheading petunias I looked down and sat right at my feet amidst the sedum was the most gorgeous leopard frog. He sat there very patiently while I photographed him. Isn’t he beautiful?
I am so grateful for all this. I couldn’t ask for more.